Page 182 of The Missing Sister

After the introductions, we all sat down with a cup of coffee.

‘I’ll be telling you, John’ll fall to the ground in shock when he sees you, Merry. You haven’t changed at all from the old photos I’ve seen of you, whereas I’ – Sinéad indicated her curves – ‘have filled out.’

‘Do you have any children yourself?’ I asked.

‘We have three, so, two of them married already, and just the young fellow still at home with us during his hols from uni. He wants to be an accountant,’ she added proudly. ‘Either of you two wed yet? Givin’ your mammy some grandchildren to play with?’

Both of mine shook their heads.

‘We’ve four from our bunch now,’ Sinéad continued. ‘’Tis good to have small ones around the place again. They’ll often come and stay over too. Will you be joining us for lunch? Both you and John will have a lot to be talking about.’

‘Really, Sinéad, don’t go to any trouble for us.’

‘As if it would be, Merry. ’Tis not every day a missing member of the family appears out o’ the blue. ’Tis like the parable of the prodigal son, so you’re getting fed the fatted calf. And it’s beef and Guinness casserole for lunch!’

‘Can I ask you how everyone is, Sinéad? All my sisters? Bill? Pat?’

‘The sisters are grand, so; all of them married, and Pat too, though Nora’s on her second husband and lives in Canada these days. She always was a flighty one, wasn’t she? Ellen, Katie, Bill and Pat – who runs a farm of his own these days – are all still local and some have grandchildren of their own too. Bill’s in Cork City, working for the council, no less. There’s a rumour he’ll be running for election for Fianna Fáil soon.’

I struggled to picture my little brother being all grown-up, with a responsible job.

‘And Katie? Where is she?’

‘Katie?’ Mary-Kate queried.

‘My sister closest in age – she was two years older than me,’ I explained. ‘And yes, I named you after her,’ I smiled.

‘’Tis normal to name our kids after their families here, especially their parents,’ Sinéad explained to my daughter. ‘It gets complicated at family parties, mind, when everyone’s shouting for a John and four of them appear,’ she chuckled. ‘Ah, here’s your man coming up the drive. Himself will be knocked over by a feather when he walks in, just you wait.’

As I heard the door to a truck slam and footsteps walk towards the back door, I didn’t know what to do with myself. In the end, I stood up as John opened the back door. He had filled out since the last time I’d seen him, but in a brawny way, and his curly hair was peppered with grey. I looked into his green eyes, inherited from our mother, and gave him a smile.

‘Hello there, John,’ I said, feeling suddenly shy.

‘Guess who it is?’ chirped Sinéad.

He stared at me, and I finally saw recognition dawn on his face.

John took a step forwards. ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Merry, is it you?’

‘You know it is,’ I said, my eyes filling with tears.

‘You come here, girl, and take the first hug I’ve been able to give you in over thirty-five years.’

‘Thirty-seven,’ I corrected him as we walked towards each other and he took me in his big strong arms. He smelt comfortingly of cow and it made me want to cry.

The others in the kitchen remained silent until John unclasped me. ‘I’ve missed the sight of you, Merry.’

‘Me too,’ I gulped.

‘And are these your young ones? They’re the spit of you!’ he said, turning his attention to Jack and Mary-Kate. ‘Where’ve you been all these years?’

‘We’ve been living in New Zealand.’

‘Well now, I’d say ’twas the moment to open something to welcome you back home. What’ll you be drinking? Beer? Wine?’

‘I’ll have a beer, please, sir,’ said Jack.

‘And me,’ volunteered Mary-Kate. I saw that both my children looked dazed at what was going on in front of them.